


Three is a Crowd

by typicaltorii



Series: Confessions Over Coffee [2]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Adopted Virgil, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders - Freeform, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders - Freeform, Diner!AU, M/M, Meeting the parent, Morality | Patton Sanders - Freeform, Patton is Virgil's Dad, Patton is a good Dad, Sanders Sides (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typicaltorii/pseuds/typicaltorii
Summary: Continuation of Keep You CompanyPatton is not an airhead. He knows exactly why his son dragged him out of his bed at 6am to go eat breakfast at a diner down the street.





	Three is a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, thank you so much to triggermoreliketiger for beta-ing this for me. They are absolutely fantastic, and I hope to work with them again soon!
> 
> Secondly, this is a continuation of Keep You Company. It's recommended that you read that work first, but it isn't completely necessary. You may just be a little lost if you don't. And like I mentioned before, if any of y'all are artistically inclined in the slightest, I would love to see your work! It always brings a smile to my face when I see good art for my stories! <3
> 
> Anyway, onto the story I suppose.

“Patton, come on. Quit dragging your feet.”

“I've never seen you so excited to eat breakfast before. Where are we going again?”

“Just this...really cool diner. You'll see.”

“Alright, kiddo.”

Patton wasn't sure what the big deal was. It was nearing the end of Virgil’s winter break, and Patton was sure that Virgil would want to spend all sorts of hours in his room, blasting his guitar-heavy music and hiding himself from the sun. But Virgil was full of surprises, dragging his adoptive parent out of bed at the early hour of 6am (unusual) to eat breakfast at a diner down the street (even more unusual). Not only that, but Virgil was, dare Patton say, excited to be up this early, pushing Patton out the garage door and into the crisp January air (peak unusualness).

“We’re not taking the car?” Patton asked as he turned towards Virgil, who was currently donning a deep red hoodie nearly twice his size.

“Nope,” Virgil replied nonchalantly, wrapping the hoodie closer to himself and setting off down the sidewalk. Patton knew how Virgil worked, and even though Virgil was trying very hard to seem aloof, Patton saw how Virgil was walking a little bit more vigorously than normal. Virgil was trying so hard to keep his enthusiasm in check, and he was failing. Big time.

It wasn't until a moment later that Patton realized that Virgil didn't own any hoodies that color.

_Maybe it’s new?_

Patton didn't want to point out that Virgil seemed extra keen on getting to the diner, just in case he embarrassed Virgil and made him storm back home. So Patton bit his tongue and followed the teenaged boy to a vintage diner, decked out in neon and checkerboard.

It wasn't a very big diner, but it was incredibly cozy. Patton admired the vinyl booth and long, polished counter of the place, and felt at home nearly immediately.

Of course, Patton and Virgil were the only two patrons there. After all, it was 6am.

“Ah! You're here!”

And now Patton knew why Virgil was so eager to eat breakfast.

A young man had just come through a door at the end of the counter, brown hair smoothed back and a smile as bright as the sun growing on the man’s face. His eyes lit up the minute he saw Virgil, and raced to the end of the counter closest to the door.

“I wasn't sure if you were going to come in today! I just put on a fresh pot of coffee! Come sit down,” the man waved Virgil over to a stool right in front of him, and Virgil nearly sprinted over, taking the seat so fluidly that Patton had to wonder how many times he had done that before.

The man looked past Virgil and spotted Patton by the door, bright smile never leaving, “Oh, hello! You must be Patton!”

“The one and only,” Patton replied, matching the man’s cheerful mood in stride and taking a seat next to his son, “And you are?”

The man looked at Virgil quickly before meeting Patton’s eyes, holding out his hand, “I’m Roman. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Patton grinned, giving Roman’s hand a firm shake before turning to Virgil, “Virgil dragged me out of bed to come here. I can see why.”

Virgil’s face filled with red as he sunk to his hoodie. Patton would go easy on the teasing for now, but the minute they got home, he better be prepared for the merciless questions Patton was going to rapid fire at him.

Roman had already filled a mug with coffee and slid it Virgil’s way without Virgil even saying anything. Patton couldn't help but notice the way Virgil relaxed as he took a sip of the hot liquid, smiling slightly around the rim.

_Oh, Virgil is so getting the second degree when we get home!_

“Anything I can get you, Patton,” Roman said as he turned to fill a glass with ice. Patton looked quickly at a laminated menu nearby before settling on apple juice. Roman slid the apple juice his way before wandered to a sink nearby.

As Roman washed his hands, Patton made sure to keep his voice down as he leaned closer to Virgil. “You know, I've always told you red is a good color on you. Too bad you don't own anything red.”

“Shut up,” Virgil nearly hissed, leaning away from Patton and angling himself towards the booths on the far side of the diner, back turned pointedly towards Patton. Patton could just barely see the tip of Virgil's nose turning pink, and he smiled to himself in victory.

“So, do we still need a minute to look,” Roman asked from the sink as he dried his hands off on a paper towel. Patton smiled, straightening up and beaming at Roman.

“I'll try your French Toast,” Patton said, leaning on the counter. Roman smiled, turning from the boys to prepare their breakfast.

“Wait,” Patton asked after watching Roman beat together eggs, “Aren't you going to ask Virgil too?”

A mischievous look flashed over Roman’s eyes as he looked past Patton, “No point. He never orders anything on the menu.”

Patton heard Virgil guffaw next to him, and Patton turned to see Virgil, slack-jawed and eyebrows pulled together. “Excuse you! You're the one that insists on making me food that isn't on the menu to begin with!”

“Nuh uh! The first time you came in here, you ordered toast! We don't even offer toast,” Roman said tauntingly, gesturing to Virgil with his whisk dramatically, “And who even orders toast for breakfast? You know who does? Boring people.”

“At least I'm not as flamboyant as you,” Virgil’s lips pulled into a smirk, arms crossing on the counter.

Roman’s eyebrow raised as an unimpressed pout puckered his lips, “I’m not flamboyant. I'm dramatic. There's a difference, My Chemically-Imbalanced Romance.”

Virgil gasped loudly, placing a hand to his chest as he glared at Roman. “Too soon.”

“Kiddo, that happened a decade ago,” Patton chuckled under his breath. He had been waiting forever to use this pun. “Wouldn't you say that by now, My Chemical Romance is...Dead?”

The glare Virgil shot at Patton was icy, but Patton was too busy laughing at his own pun to really acknowledge it. Roman joined in on the laughter, chuckling slightly as he worked over the stove. Patton couldn’t help but to like Roman the more time he spent with him, and Patton couldn’t help but wonder how Virgil wasn’t swept up in Roman’s easy-going attitude.

_Maybe he is…_

Patton wasn’t as much of an airhead he pretended to be. He could be quite perceptive sometimes, and he saw every little thing happening in front of him. The subtle hand brushes, how flustered Virgil got when Roman dropped a plate full of crepes in front of him, how Virgil blushed when Roman said “It’s not a problem, love”. And Roman was just as obvious. Whenever Virgil wasn’t looking, Roman was. He purposely lingered by him and Patton, making easy conversation with them as he cleaned up the mess he made cooking (crepes were pretty hard to make apparently).

But it was Roman’s eyes that gave him away the most. The softness behind them whenever he looked at Virgil was enough to make even Patton fall in love. Even when he was teasing the boy in the hoodie, his eyes held warmth.

As Patton was trying to devise a plan over the best way to excuse himself early and leave the two alone, he was startled out of his thoughts as a loud crash brought him back to reality.

Virgil had already jumped off his stool, leaving his half-finished breakfast to go cold as he raced down the counter in a rush. Patton stood too, looking over the counter to see Roman crouched on the ground, cradling his left hand close to his chest, surrounded by a few dropped pans, a loose knife, and a cutting board. Patton didn’t need to put two and two together to know that Roman was hurt, but before he could jump into action, Virgil was knelt beside him, pushing a few pans out of the way.

“Roman. Are you alright,” Virgil asked in a hurry, tentatively placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder, “Is it your hand? Let me see.”

Roman looked shocked to see Virgil next to him, jaw dropping as he said, “Virgil? You can’t be back here. Go sit down and finish your breakfast.” But Virgil didn’t budge, the only outward sign of his worry being the pull between his eyebrows. “Virgil, really, I’m fine.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Virgil was stubborn, holding out his free hand defiantly, “Give me your hand.”

Patton nearly laughed when Roman slapped his right hand into Virgil’s, an tense smile on his face. “I knew you just wanted to hold my hand.”

Patton cleared his throat before leaning over the counter and calling down to the boys, “He won’t let it go until you show him your hand.”

A small smile pulled at Virgil’s lips as he looked up at Patton before his eyebrows pulled back together as he met Roman’s gaze. Roman hesitated before exhaling deeply and offering Virgil his left hand instead. Virgil gingerly took the hand, turning the palm towards the light and out of Patton’s view. He saw how Virgil’s face revealed a little more of his worry as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

“How’s it looking, kiddo,” Patton asked as he started to move down the counter to join his son and Roman. Roman looked back at Patton, another tense smile pulling at him lips.

“It’s really not bad at all. Just a little cut,” Roman replied casually, his smile becoming more genuine as he looked towards Virgil, “And talk about being dramatic.”

The deadpan look on Virgil’s face made them both laugh, and Virgil stood quickly, dropping Roman’s hand and stalking back to his seat. Roman stood too, brushing his good hand off on his apron.

“I’m going to go bandage my hand. You guys, please enjoy your food. Sorry about the crash,” Roman apologized sheepishly, swaying slightly from foot to foot before turning quickly and pushing his way through the swinging door a few feet away. Patton shrugged before joining Virgil back in their stools.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Virgil murmured under his breath, examining his hands underneath the counter. Patton continued to dig into his french toast, pretending to be aloof.

“Did what, kiddo,” He said between bites of the delicious food, “Are you talking about holding Cute-Boy-Roman’s hand?”

“That’s not his name,” Virgil snapped as he grabbed his fork, effectively ending their conversation. For now.

The rest of their meal was uneventful, Patton singing his praise to Roman and watching as the young man took the compliments gratefully. Patton couldn't help but notice the gauze wrapped around Roman’s hand, and he really did wonder if the cut had been serious or not.

“Ah shit,” Virgil muttered under his breath as he tried to smooth away a bit of caster sugar that had gotten on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Don't worry about it,” Roman said as he cleared away their plates, “I can just wash it when you give it back.” Roman stopped so quickly, it was like someone hit pause on him. His eyes darted between Patton and Virgil, cheeks turning red as he stuttered. “I-I mean- uh-”

“-I already know the jacket is yours, Roman,” Patton hoped his Calm Voice would make the server relax, but Roman seemed to tense up even more at that, blushing so hard his neck started to redden as he turned sharply towards the sink.

“Oh my god, Dad,” Virgil groaned as he nearly sunk off his stool, pulling the hood up and over his head to hide his matching blush.

“What,” Patton called after him, confused as to what the heck he said that made Virgil nearly dash out of the diner. Patton was about to follow him before remembering their check. He shot one last glance at Virgil as he pushed his way through the door before turning to Roman. “Sorry to dash, but could I get the check?”

That question seemed to ground Roman and the server ran a hand through his hair, effectively pulling a few hairs loose from the clean look. “Oh, don't worry about it. It's on the house.”

“I don't think so,” Patton contested, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his wallet, “How much is it?”

“No, really, sir,” Roman held his hands in front of him, taking a step back, “I’m not going to charge you.”

“But,” Patton was at a loss for words, “Why?”

Roman sighed, his lips pulling into a soft smile as he looked over Patton’s shoulder, “Because...I never charge for Virgil.The first time he came in here, he looked like he was gonna fall over if the wind blew hard enough. Knowing that he's getting at least one full meal puts me at ease.” Roman shrugged, his eyes still glued over Patton’s shoulder. “I don't know. That probably sounds dumb, but…”

Patton shook his head, a smile matching Roman’s as he stated, “I knew I liked you. Thank you for taking care of my son.”

Roman’s eyes met Patton’s, and Patton felt a warmth of camaraderie from the server. “It's not a problem at all.”

Patton nearly had to run a block to catch up to his sulking son, and when he finally did, Virgil gave him an earful of how “embarrassed” he made Virgil feel. Patton took the griping in stride, listening proactively as his son ranted on about how “this was why he never let him in on anything”.

Patton wasn't an airhead. He knew, underneath layers and layers of emotions and thoughts and subtext, his son had a crush on Roman. It was so glaringly obvious from an outsider’s perspective, and Patton swore that he would do everything in his power to encourage Virgil’s pursuit of the man in the 60s diner because he knew, from the bottom of his heart, that his son’s feelings would be reciprocated.

Patton loved his dark, strange son, and if his son decided he may love someone too, who was he to stand in the way of _that?_


End file.
